Whoever Invented Onions Should Be Shot
by SlayerLove
Summary: Wufei, Quatre, and some very stronglyscented onions misunderstandings of the embarrassing and possibly romantic kind! Mild, mild shounen aijust hugging. WuQu 54 pairing.


"**Whoever invented onions should be shot…"**

By SlayerLove

SL: I officially disclaim Gundam Wing and all of the characters therein! . Now, then, shall we see what happens when we combine Wufei, Quatre, and some very strong onions? This is a very mildly shounen ai fic--it's not a romantic storyline, but for the record it's what my sis and I call Wu-Qu (pronounced 'woo-cue')--waffy Wufei+Quatre goodness! Enjoy, and if you so desire, do leave a review. If you hate Wufei, well, that's very sad, but please don't send me flames saying Wufei doesn't deserve Quatre--I think they're adorable together, and you won't change my mind. . On to the fic, then.

* * *

_Whoever invented onions should be shot,_ thought a certain Chinese Gundam pilot as he felt helplessly around on the kitchen floor for his missing contact lense. The chance of finding it was fairly hopeless, of course, but he was _blind_ without any glasses or contacts, so it was certainly worth trying. 

The whole mess had started out innocently enough...

Quatre, ever one to think ahead, had pointed out sheepishly that morning that their food supply was just about depleted. Thanks to a late night 'snack' of Duo's consisting of several insanely large sub sandwiches, the only edible (and calling them that was debatable) things left in the house were a can of sliced beets, a tiny bottle of olive oil, and a sack of onions.

When they sat down to decide who would go to buy the supplies, no one could agree on just what to get. Heero swore that their supplies would last a lot longer and be much healthier for them if they just bought a bunch of military MREs. Duo, of course, jumped in at this point to insist that, healthy or not, he could not live without his favorite snack food--pickles and cheese. And MREs did not contain pickles.

Heero in turn frowned and said that pickles were not a required vitamin or mineral, and thus Duo _could_ live without them. Trowa then spoke up and pointed out that buying a bunch of military food could seem suspicious to OZ, and might even lead soldiers back to their safe house. Duo said this was exactly why HE should go get the supplies. Heero immediately protested to this, and Quatre, trying to settle things peacefully, suggested that they all go and buy the supplies together.

Wufei, who didn't care to deal with all of them _or_ anyone out in the town, told the blonde that frankly he didn't care what supplies they bought as long as there was a large bag of rice somewhere in there. Having said that, he stayed home while the other four boys went off to shop for the much-needed supplies.

At first, the empty house was nice--no Duo talking loudly, or Heero rapidly tapping the keys of his laptop, no more insistent ringing from Quatre's cell phone. After a few hours, however, it occurred to the Chinese boy that he hadn't had anything for breakfast--and there was nothing to eat but canned beets and a bunch of onions. The beets hadn't sounded very appetizing, so Wufei decided to saute an onion or two in the contents of the tiny bottle of olive oil.

This plan was simple enough, though unfortunately the fumes from the onions were much stronger than he'd anticipated. _But if I give up I'll have to go hungry,_ the Chinese boy thought in annoyance. Determinedly, he kept slicing even when his eyes began to water. _You're a Gundam pilot,_ he told himself sternly when the stinging in his eyes and the fumes wafting in the air made him start to sniffle, _You will _not_ be defeated by an _onion

He finished slicing the first vegetable and started on the second. The new fumes seemed to build on the old ones, doubling the stinging, and Wufei grumbled quietly in rather tearful Chinese to distract himself.

"What a stupid idea...should've gone with the beets instead. I don't like beets, but I could've pretended they were really deformed octopus or something! Ooouuuch..." He wanted desperately to rub at his eyes, just to wipe the tears away, but if he did he was sure it would dislodge one of his contacts. Annoyed with the predicament he was in, he gave the half onion he was working on a particularly violent slice.

A whole new wave of onion aroma washed over him, and he grimaced as the stinging seemed to stab abruptly at both eyes. The view of his fingers, the onion and the knife abruptly blurred--just in time for him to start a downward slice. Startled by his sudden lack of vision, his grip on the knife slipped. Pain stabbed through his right index finger.

He could hardly believe this. He'd _cut_ himself! Him, Wufei, the guy who practiced swordplay every day! It seemed Fate was just having a good laugh at his expense today. Uttering a few Chinese curses that, thanks to his tearful state, sounded more like incoherent sobbing, the pilot felt hopelessly around on the table for his missing contact.

_It was the left one...if I keep that eye closed, I could probably..._ More tears slipped down his face, and with them went his other contact. _I will _not_ lose both!_ He thought fiercely, catching it in his cupped hand before it could fall on the floor or table as the tears continued to do. _Dammit, these things should have warning labels!_ He thought of the onions, realizing too late that he had caught the precious little lense with his right hand. The one he'd cut.

Squinting through tears and very fuzzy vision, Wufei gritted his teeth as he discerned the hazy outline on a blood-soaked contact held in the hand he had lifted close to his face.

Now_ what...? I can't put it back in all bloody!_ His only hope, he realized, was finding the other contact. He couldn't possibly see well enough to go through the living room, up the stairs and to his bedroom to retrieve his glasses. He couldn't wear the lense he had, either, as it was blood-covered. Getting to his lense cleaning kit was also out of the question, as it was upstairs next to his glasses case.

If he found the missing contact, it would undoubtedly get onion juice on it from his fingers, but by now he was too desperate to care. The worst it could do was sting, and he was fairly sure his eyes weren't capable of stinging more than they already did now. And thus, there he sat, feeling around blindly on the floor for the missing contact.

He had already searched the entire table by feel, and had come to the conclusion that the elusive little lense had not fallen there, so he'd placed the one he _had_ caught on the table, gingerly gotten on his knees on the tile and began to rummage around there as well. All the while, the aggressively strong onion fumes stabbed at his eyes, and his empty stomach added its two cents by aching rather badly.

* * *

This was the way Quatre, who had walked on ahead of the 'shopping assault team', as Heero had dubbed them, found him. The blonde at first thought Wufei would be upstairs, but a few feeble-sounding sobs alerted him to his friend's presence in the kitchen. Peering around the door, his turquoise eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. Wufei (who thankfully hadn't noticed he was there yet) sat on his knees on the floor, blood trickling down his right hand and staining the legs of his white pants from where he must have leaned on them. 

Tears streamed from his slanted onyx eyes, shining on his face as he stared sort of distantly down at the floor. A bloodied knife and a bunch of chopped onion bits were scattered all around him. In keeping with his compassionate nature, Quatre's first thought was, _Poor Wufei!_

He hurried to kneel at his friend's side, for the moment ignoring the pungent aroma of onions in the air. The cut on Wufei's hand wasn't nearly as serious as the blood made it seem--it was his emotional state that worried Quatre. _He's crying...I've never seen him cry over _anything Unsure what to do, he lightly touched his friend's shoulder to let him know that he was there. To his surprise, the Chinese boy flinched at his touch.

Now very concerned, Quatre asked, "Wufei, what happened! Are you okay?"

* * *

Wufei heard footsteps. _Dammit!_ He thought, cringing, _I can't possibly defend myself in such a pathetic state! I'm _blind When he felt a hand on his shoulder, his first thought was that it must be someone trying to attack him. Years of martial arts practice made it his reflex to dodge the blow. He started to move, but realized as soon as the hand landed that there was no violent force behind the motion. That was when he heard Quatre's concerned voice: "Wufei, what happened! Are you okay?" 

_This situation must look _terrible he thought with chagrin.

"I...I--l-lo..." he tried to talk, but the damned onion fumes had done their work well, and sobs cut him off. _Dammit, this is so embarrassing!_ 'I lost my contacts' was what he _wanted_ to say. Determinedly, he tried again.

* * *

"I l-lo--my c--...c-c...I...!" Quatre felt a bit guilty at how upset Wufei seemed to be. _Maybe we shouldn't have left him alone...even if he acted like he wanted to stay, maybe he thought we didn't want him around us when we agreed to it! Wufei, I'm sorry! I should have understood you better..._

He was tentative about offering comfort--Wufei was, after all, such a private and solitary person--but the sight of the Chinese boy sitting there sobbing was too much for his kind heart. As gently as he could, he wrapped his arms around Wufei and pulled him into a protective embrace.

"It's okay, Wufei...I understand now. I'm sorry I didn't before...I'm sorry..."

* * *

Wufei was, frankly, floored by the hug. _What the hell is he...?_ But then the words seemed to explain things. _He understands what happened,_ Wufei thought in relief. The hugging was probably just Quatre being himself... 

Then the Chinese pilot recalled his current state of composure...or lack thereof. He groaned, _He thinks I need _consoling_! Agh, Fate, you're having a _ball_ up there over this, aren't you!_

* * *

Thanks to his tearful state, Wufei's groan came out more as a whimper, and Quatre felt his heart squeeze at the sound of it. 

He smoothed his friend's silky black hair, murmuring, "I'm so sorry... I'm such a terrible friend, not even seeing what was going on! I-I promise, I won't...w-won't...ever leave...you all a-alone again...!" Thanks to the onion fumes, Quatre was now in tears, too, but he ignored the stinging in his eyes--his own comfort wasn't important right now, not when a friend was in such distress.

* * *

And indeed, distress Wufei _was_ in, for from what Quatre was saying he'd realized that the blonde had mistaken the situation entirely. And now, somehow, Quatre had guilt-tripped himself so much with the story he had _fabricated_ right then and there that _he_ was crying, too. 

_Why me...?_ Wufei wondered silently, with a shaky little sigh into the blonde boy's shoulder. He couldn't see to get up and leave the room by himself, but he couldn't _speak_ to explain things to Quatre because of the onion-induced crying. And to top it all, because he couldn't leave the room the crying would not stop any time soon. And Quatre wouldn't help him leave the room because he thought the Chinese boy was so upset that comforting him was more important at the moment!

And because he couldn't talk, Wufei _couldn't explain that that wasn't the case! And_...ugh. It was an endless loop, and in addition to the stinging in his poor tear-filled eyes, the stinging from his still sluggishly-bleeding finger, the aching from his empty stomach _and_ the uncomfortably close embrace he was still held in by Quatre, he was beginning to get a throbbing headache, too.

_I have to get a clear sentence out,_ he thought in frustration, _If I could just tell him I need my _glasses

"Q...Q-Quatre," he managed to sob out, though the coherence of the name was muffled a bit by its owner's shoulder. Unfortunately (though, knowing Quatre, rather expectedly), his attempts at communication did not yield the desired result.

Rather, the blonde boy only rubbed his back in a surprisingly comforting fashion and soothed past his own tears, "I-it's okay, don't talk right now. I...I understand, Wufei...your heart feels upset. I-it's _my_ fault, isn't it? I'm so sorry!"

_Gah--Nataku, help me! How can I get the message through to him that he's _completely misunderstanding_ the situation if I can't _speak

Since the cursed onion fumes, or rather the tears that resulted from them, rendered his voice useless, the Chinese boy instead patted Quatre's shoulder lightly to acknowledge that he understood. _Maybe he's right...maybe if I calm down a little..._ By now he was even beginning to appreciate the hug--not because he needed comfort, but because breathing through the shoulder of Quatre's shirt filtered out much of the onion fumes.

They sat in silence for a long moment, and Wufei was just getting the tears under control when he heard a surprised voice nearby: "...Quatre, what...?" Wufei felt the blonde place a hand lightly atop his head.

"T-Trowa," the Arabian's voice was filled with tears, "Wufei...m-my heart..."

"Is he...hurt?" The Chinese boy was surprised to hear a hint of concern in the brunette's voice.

"He c-cut his hand," Quatre explained in a tone that made it clear that that was not the real problem. Wufei decided that for the moment, being silent was best. It was embarrassing enough acting this pathetically weak in front of anyone without being unable to say a single sentence, too!

_What a horrible day!_ He thought with a mental grimace, _I wish I'd never gotten out of bed! Nataku, I'll bet you're crying in your grave right now over how pathetic your husband is!_ He felt someone gently pulling him to his feet, and Quatre's arm around his shoulder, whether for support or comfort he couldn't tell. Much as he hated to admit it, he definitely needed the assistance, as he couldn't see clearly even a foot ahead of him.

Unfortunately, ending the protective hug Quatre had been holding him in also ended his eyes' protection from the onion fumes by the blonde's shirt. Almost immediately, the tears sprang anew and his throat choked up again. _Nooo! Just when I could _speak_ again!_ Wordlessly, he held onto the offered arm and allowed himself to be guided wherever they were leading him. As he went, the onions fumes began to fade. _At last!_

* * *

Relieved that someone else had arrived to help him with this rather awkward situation, Quatre stopped hugging Wufei long enough to help him to his feet. The poor Chinese boy appeared to be in some sort of daze, but as soon as Quatre let go of him he burst into tears again. _Oh, no,_ the blonde thought in dismay, hurrying to wrap an arm around Wufei when he saw how unsteady his stance looked. _Poor Wufei...I wish there was something more I could do!_

"I-I'll take him to the living room, Trowa," he told the brunette, who was searching for somewhere that _wasn't_ onion-covered to deposit his armload of grocery bags. The green-eyed boy gave a single nod in reply before disappearing from sight as Quatre led Wufei into the living room.

The Chinese pilot seemed to be avoiding his eyes, tears still slipping down his face. He clung to the blonde boy's arm like a lifeline, though, and even let Quatre help him over to the couch and spread a small blanket over him. _He looks kind of like he's in shock,_ the blonde noted worriedly, _I wonder what happened while we were gone? I shouldn't have agreed to leave him by himself!_

* * *

Wufei was glad to be helped out of the kitchen, but was a bit annoyed at being seated on the couch and tucked under a blanket like a child. Unfortunately, he didn't want to try talking again and sounding like he couldn't form a full sentence. It was embarrassing enough last time... _Now that those damned onions are farther away, though, I can regain my composure._

Closing his eyes, he focussed on doing just that. _I am calm,_ he thought firmly, talking a deep (if rather shuddery) breath, _This upset does not stem from an emotional state, but a physical one. Onions are a chemical reaction--now that they have been removed from the equation, I can become as calm outwardly as I am inwardly..._ Recalling some of the mental cursing he'd done before when he'd been crying too hard to say it aloud, he cringed a little and added, _As calm as I am _now_ inwardly._

* * *

Quatre watched as Wufei closed his eyes and began to take deep, soothing breaths. As he did, the upset and frustrated emotions that had been throbbing at the blonde boy's heart ebbed, then went away almost entirely. Relieved, he was about to speak when his friend suddenly cringed and a bit of uneasiness welled up again. 

Feeling he had to do something, Quatre placed a hand gently on the Chinese boy's shoulder, "Wufei? I'm right here, it's okay..."

* * *

Wufei couldn't help but be distracted from his calming thoughts by Quate's words. _He still thinks I'm 'upset', even with all of the onion fumes in that kitchen! I'd like to put a stop to _that_ idea, but...the _real_ story is almost as pathetic and embarrassing! It's better than him thinking I'm this overly sensitive, though! But, can I trust my voice...?_

* * *

"Q-Quatre?" The blonde boy was relieved to hear Wufei calm enough to be speaking. 

"I'm here," he assured his friend, patting his shoulder lightly, "You don't have to talk right now if you don't want to--I understand." The Chinese pilot raised a slightly shaky hand to swipe at his eyes, not answering for a moment.

When at last his spoke, he turned to stare through Quatre distantly as he whispered, "Quatre, I-I can't see." Quatre felt horror well in him--blind?

"But how?" He asked, unable to help himself, "What happened?"

* * *

Glad to finally be able to speak again, even if he _did_ sound like he'd been crying his eyes out (which he _had_, sort of), Wufei explained in a slightly irritated tone, "I lost m-my contact lenses, Winner. They f-fell out when I...I was crying." _This's all the fault of those damned _onions

* * *

"Oh!" Quatre smiled, relieved--Wufei just needed his glasses, then. He _wasn't_ blind. Nothing horrible had happened to him while the others were gone...had it? He just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he had over all of this... He wanted to go get Wufei's glasses for him, but the uneasiness grew at the thought of leaving his friend by himself again. 

_Maybe...that's a good idea, I'll bring him upstairs with me. It might be a little slower going up the steps, but I'll make sure he doesn't fall. That way I won't have to leave him alone, and I'm sure he'll be glad that Heero and Duo don't see him like this, anyway._

* * *

"Okay," Wufei heard Quatre after a moment of silence, "Let's go get your glasses, then." _He...wants me to walk up the steps _blind The Chinese boy thought to himself, half-annoyed and half-startled. It would have been much easier to have Quatre dash upstairs to retrieve the glasses, but then it occurred to Wufei that Heero and Duo couldn't be far behind Trowa and Quatre. And that he probably looked terrible after all that crying and cutting his hand and rummaging on the onion-covered kitchen floor. 

A bit unhappily, he agreed, "Okay."

"Okay," Quatre repeated, sounding like he was talking more to himself than to his friend. Tugging the blanket off, Wufei carefully stood, placing a hand over the blonde's on his shoulder so that he didn't lose his balance. They carefully began to make their way in what the Chinese boy assumed to be the direction of the stairs. _Why are we going so slow?_ He thought anxiously.

Truthfully, it was best not to rush around when one could barely see at all, but he was by this time more worried about Heero and Duo seeing him in his current state than about taking a fall on the carpeted steps.

* * *

Quatre kept his hand on Wufei's shoulder and lightly wrapped the other one around his waist for support--if his friend had draped an arm over his shoulders, it would work better, but Wufei seemed to be rapidly returning to his usual solitary self. Truthfully, the Arabian was surprised that his friend was allowing him to hold him as closely as he was. They arrived at the bottom of the stairs fairly fast--Wufei seemed to have no qualms about walking blindly at a normal speed. 

_Maybe it's because he trusts me enough to guide him,_ Quatre thought. The idea made his heart feel warm, and he smiled faintly. He was probably jumping to conclusions, and Wufei didn't think any such thing... In fact, the Chinese boy looked distant and unhappy. It was hard _not_ to look distant when one couldn't focus their eyes on anything, Quatre knew, but he looked particularly distant now, like he was thinking on some serious matter.

_I wonder if it has anything to do with how I found him?_ The blonde thought with a bit of concern. Wufei had explained that his contacts fell out because he had been crying, but why _had_ he been crying in the first place? Certainly just cutting up onions didn't get someone sobbing their heart out like that...

* * *

"Okay," a hint of worry came through in Quatre's encouraging voice, "We're going to climb the stairs now. Just take one step at a time--don't worry, I promise I won't let you fall." Wufei nodded, carefully feeling for the step with his foot before leaning his weight on it. It took longer than normal climbing might, but worked fairly well to keep him from stumbling. These thoughts were going through his head just as his toe caught on a turned-up edge of the carpet. This threw him off balance, and without any vision to tell him which way was safe to lean, he grabbed onto Quatre's shoulders for support instead. 

The blonde, true to his promise, wrapped both arms around him to keep him from falling at almost the same time.

"S-sorry," Wufei said as quietly as possible, still hating how his voice sounded after all that crying. Held so tightly to Quatre's chest, he could feel as well as hear the blonde's heart pounding.

"It's okay," Quatre replied, sounding rather surprised he'd apologized, "I-it wasn't your fault the carpet had a roll in it. Here..." Wufei was relieved to feel the tight embrace loosening, but made sure his feet were firmly planted before he would let go of his guide. _Thinking when you should be concentrating on where your feet fall isn't a smart idea,_ he told himself in annoyance, very carefully feeling for and walking up to the next step.

Distantly, he heard a door slam and a call of, "Yo, we're here at last! Hey, Trowa, why didn't you come back and help haul the rest of this stuff in?"

_Duo,_ Wufei realized in horror. _If he sees me in this state, needing Quatre to hold my hand to get up the stairs, I'll _never_ live it down!_

* * *

Quatre was about to greet Duo when Wufei whispered urgently, "Hurry! P-please, let's get upstairs!" He looked near-panic, and was glancing around helplessly trying to locate Quatre.

"Okay," the blonde agreed as placatingly as he could, stepping up to the next step, "It's okay, we'll make it!"

* * *

Making it to the top of the stairs before _Duo_ sighted them was all that Wufei wanted to accomplish. Gripping Quatre's shoulder for support, he rushed his way up the last half of the stairs by skipping several steps at a time.

Being in such a rush was really not a smart idea, as he couldn't see where the steps ended and flat floor began. Thus, he stepped up expecting his foot to land on firm ground and instead leaned his body weight on thin air. It was too late by then, and Wufei felt himself pitching forward. The next second, his leading foot landed on the floor at a rather painful angle. It must have been twisted by the impact, because it refused to hold his weight, and thus he fell flat on his face on the upstairs floor.

And to crown the whole blundering mess, Quatre (whose shoulder he still held in a tight grip) came falling and landed right on top of his back.

* * *

Quatre winced more in sympathy than pain as he landed across Wufei's back with a smack. The Chinese boy softened his fall, but the blonde wished he could switch places nonetheless just so that Wufei wouldn't be the one getting hurt. _Why is he so panicked, rushing blind up the stairs like that?_ The only explanation the Arabian pilot could think of was that Wufei didn't want the others seeing him in his distressed state. Hurriedly, he crawled off of his friend's prone form, reaching to roll him over.

"Wufei! Are you okay? I'm so sorry, if I'd pulled to keep you from falling we both would have rolled down the stairs!" The Chinese boy made a tiny, pained sound and forced his dark eyes open to regard Quatre (or rather, his general direction) dizzily.

"Please...d-don't yell."

* * *

Wufei meant to imply that Quatre keep his voice down, lest Duo or anyone else overhear them and come to see what was going on, but he could tell instantly from the tone of Quatre's voice that he'd taken it the wrong way.

Sounding distressed, the blonde said very quietly, "I-I'm not mad, please don't think it was your fault! It's mine--I should have guided you better!" _He's so intent on blaming himself that he doesn't interpret things the way someone else would,_ the Chinese boy thought with a sigh. Gingerly, he sat up, then winced as pain shot through his left ankle. _Damn...I think it's sprained or at least twisted..._

Quatre felt a little throb of pain in his heart just as Wufei was sitting up. A second later, the Chinese boy winced, clutching his ankle. Quatre felt guilty over what had happened, but knew that talking wouldn't fix things--he needed to help his friend right now.

Touching Wufei's shoulder, he said, "You're hurt--I can feel it. Please, let me help you get to your room and then I'll go get a first aid kit, okay?"

_

* * *

To my room...yes, good idea, Wufei thought anxiously--he couldn't have seen it if it __did_ happen, but in his mind he kept picturing Duo coming rushing up the stairs and finding him sitting there so pitifully with a twisted ankle, cut finger and red eyes from crying. Wufei thought anxiously--he couldn't have seen it if it happen, but in his mind he kept picturing Duo coming rushing up the stairs and finding him sitting there so pitifully with a twisted ankle, cut finger and red eyes from crying. 

"Yes, let's go," he answered Quatre shortly--if he took the time to point out that the incident wasn't really the blonde's fault, the resulting denials would probably take all day. Quatre wordlessly placed a guiding hand on his shoulder, helping him to his feet--well, _foot_, since he couldn't lean his weight on his left ankle. Wobbling a little, the Chinese pilot followed the direction of Quatre's hand up his arm and draped an arm over his shoulders, making it much easier to balance.

* * *

Quatre was rather surprised when Wufei placed an arm across his shoulders, but decided that it _must_ be purely for the purpose of walking easier. Chang Wufei had never, in the blonde's experience, given anyone a hug willingly. Carefully and rather slowly they made their way down the upstairs hallway until they reached Wufei's room.

Opening the door with his free hand, the blonde boy guided his friend inside and helped him sit down on the bed, as it seemed to be the only piece of furniture in the whole room besides the nightstand. _Now, where would he put his glasses...?_

* * *

"_Shushu'nin_," Wufei muttered distractedly when Quatre helped him sit down. He paused, blinking in surprise. _Did...I just say that in Chinese?_ "M-my glasses case is in the drawer of the nightstand," he informed Quatre, feeling a little embarrassed that he'd lost track of which language he was speaking. He heard the drawer being opened, and then some items being shifted around, and wondered worriedly if he'd moved his glasses from their usual location.

Much to his relief, a moment later he felt the familiar rounded case being placed in his hands and heard Quatre say, "H-here you go--I'm going to get the first aid kit." Sighing, Wufei decided to let him go ahead and get an ace bandage or something--his ankle would only swell up if left like it was. He had opened the glasses case by feel many times, and slipped the framed lenses on thankfully.

Immediately, the room came into focus.

He glanced around, blinking as his eyes got used to the vision correction again. The door opened; turning, he saw Quatre come back inside with a first aid kit in his hands and a rather guilty expression on his face.

Quatre came over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it and placing the first aid kit beside him.

Reaching for Wufei's foot, he asked, "Do you mind if I...?"

Frowning--he looked _much_ more sure of himself now that he could see--, the Chinese boy said quietly, "I'm quite capable of doing it myself--thank you for getting me up here." _I think he's mad at me,_ the blonde boy thought, his heart's painful throbbing still making his friend's injured ankle known to him.

"Please, let me take care of it," he gave Wufei a pleading look, "It'd be better if you didn't bend yourself in half and twist it more to reach it, and besides, it's my fault anyway!" His friend looked at him for a moment, then sighed, waving his hand.

"Fine, if it'll make you feel any better. But I don't blame you for what happened...it was _my_ fault."

"It wasn't...I should have been guiding you better," Quatre answered unhappily, easing the black Chinese slipper off of his friend's foot so that he could examine it.

"Nooo, I was being _reckless_," Wufei frowned as the blonde began gently probing his injured ankle with his fingers. He winced, adding, "Look, I heard Duo arrive and didn't feel like explaining things to him, okay? Please...don't tell him or Heero about...about me crying." It was embarrassing just _thinking_ about how hysterical he must have seemed, never mind explaining it to other people. Pulling an ace bandage out of the first aid kit, Quatre looked at him with large, worried turquoise eyes.

"Wufei...I know I probably have no business asking...and that you'll probably refuse to tell me, but...why were you so upset? Don't even _try_ to tell me it was just over cutting up onions, either." _Well, what the hell _am_ I supposed to tell him, then?_ Wufei wondered in annoyance, _That _is_ what happened!_ He was about to answer, but grimaced instead when Quatre started tightly wrapping his ankle in the stretchy bandage.

* * *

Quatre bound the injured ankle as gently as he could, but he knew from the throbbing in his heart and from Wufei's wincing that it still hurt. _He won't tell me what's wrong, but I can tell there's something more to it than onions,_ he thought sadly, _When I found him in the kitchen...my heart just ached so badly. Why? What was he thinking then?_

"Wufei..." He glanced up and found the other pilot watching him steadily with dark, slanted eyes. They were red from crying, but free of tears now. Tying off the bandage, the blonde boy continued, "I promise, I won't tell anybody else...not even Trowa...if you'd please just confide in me. I know you were upset--I could _feel_ it. Please, tell me what's wrong! Was it something I or the others did? Did we hurt your feelings, or exclude you somehow? If we did, I'm sorry..."

* * *

Wufei sighed heavily, leaning his forehead on one hand and closing his eyes. Bad move; this pressed against his cut finger, and he winced.

Glancing down at it as it began to bleed again sluggishly, he assured Quatre, "I know it's hard to believe, Qua--_Winner_, but it _was_ just the fault of the onions."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you," the blonde frowned. Catching and holding his gaze, he added, "Onions make your eyes water, not make you break down _sobbing_." Wufei cringed a bit at the description, but knew that he _had_ been pretty much in that state when Quatre walked in.

"They're...very aromatic onions," he manage to answer, knowing it was a weak explanation. Quatre looked at him with an unhappy little smile--how was it that he could turn what was supposed to be a happy expression into one that made you guilty to look at it?

Likely it was the blonde's expressive turquoise eyes, which flickered down toward his hands as he sighed, "I understand if you don't want to explain to me. But I _know_ you were upset over something, Wufei." He placed his right hand over his heart, closing his eyes, "I _felt_ it as soon as I got near you in the kitchen. You were in some kind of emotional distress--you don't have to tell me what, just please admit it."

_

* * *

Emotional distress, Wufei thought with a mental grumble, __I was perfectly calm! What in the world could he possibly be talking about...?_ Suddenly, memories of feeling panicked as he realized he was blind--and _bleeding_, thanks to his cut finger--flashed through his head. _Maybe...could _that_ be all he felt? I guess being freaked--err, a bit _uneasy_, over my predicament could be taken as a very mild form of 'emotional distress'..._ Wufei thought with a mental grumble, Suddenly, memories of feeling panicked as he realized he was blind--and , thanks to his cut finger--flashed through his head. thatuneasy

* * *

Wufei was silent for a long moment, looking thoughtful. _I should have left well enough alone,_ Quatre thought uncomfortably--now in addition to annoyance, the emotions he was feeling from the other pilot included confusion.

At last, Wufei admitted quietly, "I...may have been a bit _startled_ when I suddenly lost my vision. You might have gotten the confusion part...from when I didn't know where my contact was and was searching for it. I assure you, though, that I was _not_ upset in any way before I started cutting those _onions_." '_Onions_', he said the word like a curse.

Quatre smiled despite himself, asking, "Well, we just bought a bunch of supplies--want something to eat besides onions?" _I guess he could be telling the truth...if he was lying about being upset, he'd be experiencing _some_ sort of conflicting emotions right now, right? Like anxiousness, or worry. He seems relieved right now..._

* * *

Wufei was glad the blonde had finally decided to believe him. And food, food was perhaps the most beautiful word he'd heard all day. Food that _wasn't_ onions or a can of sliced beets.

"Rice?" He asked Quatre hopefully.

The blonde laughed at his expression, "Only if I can convince Trowa to make some--I'd burn it for sure!" Remembering Quatre's...err, less-than-palatable past cooking attempts, the Chinese boy was quick to nod in agreement--it would have been a sad story, indeed, to live through the morning _he'd_ had just to willingly poison himself.

--Owari

Note: Thanks for reading my fic! Didja like it? If so, I implore you to review and tell me--it'll only take half a minute for you to make my entire day!


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